Day 14: The One Where I Teach You Stuff

October  is a very multifaceted month. There is the scary, the snugly, the beautiful, the tasty and the fun. I like to add one more to that mix, the contemplative. October always gets my creative juices flowing, or maybe it’s just the moon. I think deep thoughts. I reminisce. I imagine. Along with nostalgia, I also like to think about the why questions, and what better time to ponder them than October 13^th, or since I’m a day late, the 14^th.

This year the 13th fell on a Sunday, which is fine, but it still gets me to thinking, specifically about superstitions. The definition of superstition as Webster gives it is threefold. 1) a belief or notion, not based on reason or knowledge, in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurrence, proceeding or the like. 2) a system or collection of such beliefs 3) a custom or act based on such a belief.

Being a geeky history major (and proud of it) I like to examine why things are the way they are. I don't just like to do things cuz that's the way they have always been done. I want the back story so I can make an informed decision. Superstitions, fairy tales, legend, story, song, myth, all of these can tell you a lot about a population or a person. It can give you an insight into what they believe and why and a glimpse into daily life.

Since this is October, let me give you a suitable example. Take the vampire. In the lovely olden days of yore, vampires were not the romantic heroes they are now. Vampires were agents of evil who looked like something a cat coughed up and smelled even worse. They were misshapen, had claws and lived in squalor. The superstition centering on them came about because these early ancestors didn't know much about corpses and lividity. If someone died you buried them and didn't poke around to see what made them tick. Doing that sort of thing got you burned at the stake or worse.

Unfortunately, not being inquisitive left them ignorant to the fact that corpses do move. They also make sounds. Even knowing this, if I was in a morgue with the recently deceased and an arm moved or the body made a noise I might think it was something undead and be fearful as well. Anyway, from this ignorance came about the idea that some people had the capability to come back to life after they died. So what do you do to someone who used to be living, died and then seemingly came back? Well, you got a very large bit of wood and rammed it into their chest, or you cut off their head. That seemed to be the catch all solution. Of course with gases and such, the body might emit a noise upon "expiring" the second time thus giving credence to the belief that the being was a member of the undead. Thus a superstition and legend were born.

Now that we in the thoroughly modern future know all about corpse behavior, the fable of the vampire has changed significantly. What once was a dark evil doer who was bent on destruction is now suddenly a power symbol. Where once it was a foul fiend who lived in caves, we have Armani wearing socialites who live in mansions. Modern man has changed the vampire myth into a story of power and not fear. In our quest to retain youth and vigor (plastic surgery, cryo sleep) we have traded in the fear of the vampire for admiration. It is funny to see how society has changed the superstition to fit the mindset. If you showed a pitch fork wielding villager from the middle ages a vampire film today (assuming they wouldn't totally be freaked out by the whole motion picture process) they would think we were nuts. See, isn't history fascinating.

The same can be said with fairy tales. When the Grimm's wrote their stories originally, they were capturing and collecting the tales that ordinary folk told around the fire. These were not nice stories. They were cautionary tales. Don't trust strangers, don't go into the woods, animals are dangerous, beware things you don't understand. The tales are dark and most do not end well. But that is the point. You learn from the characters mistakes so that you don’t have to make them. In the original Grimm fairy tale, Snow White's prince is a lustful jerk. Snow tortures the queen on her (Snow's) wedding day until the queen dies. There is no wake up kiss. People back then were not so much concerned with true love. Kings and queens were not to be trusted. Again, we see things differently. We look at the true love aspect. The hopeful, everything will work out aspect, because that is the world we live in. If you wait long enough, or stumble upon the right circumstances you too can find true love and a castle waiting for you around the corner. I'm pretty sure the past century villagers would laugh at us, and then poke us with a pitchfork for showing them moving pictures.

In one of my favorite scary movies, a museum is hosting a superstition exhibit (so you know everyone is pretty much doomed from the get go). Every time I watch it I get excited. Not to see people get eaten by beasties, but because I would love to see such an exhibit in real life. In the movie, guests have to walk into the mouth of a giant sculpture and follow a roped off path. Along the path they must walk under a room full of open umbrellas, walk under fully opened ladders, and walk across the path of a room full of fake black cats. There are also a room of broken mirrors and cracks along the path that one can't help but step on. Somewhere along the way there is an exhibit dedicated to the King Tut expedition (The cursed dig that claimed the lives of all who opened the tomb.) In the film I think you have to walk over the boy kings grave. I would LOVE to see a live feed of those paths. How many people would walk in without fear, and how many would try to find an alternate path, or not go in at all?

Even if you are not a superstitious person, you can still find yourself being drawn in. Why? I think because it is a human reaction. If you have a bunch of people who are afraid of something, I think your body just reacts. It may not seem sensible or logical, but the combined anxiety of a certain thing happening just seeps into our pores and we go along.

Athletes have lucky socks, shoes, bats, gloves, uniforms, pre-game routines, all because they think they will help them win a game. And to an extent they might. It is a roundabout form of meditation, a way to ready yourself. But it is still superstition. We all do it. We cross our fingers, we go a certain route, and we see a penny and pick it up. We read a fortune or horoscope and believe it. If a good thing happened once when we did a certain thing, perhaps it will happen again. Superstition is our way of making sense of things we don't understand. It is our way to exert a little control over the uncontrollable.

As a historian I find superstition endlessly fascinating. I have books about superstitions and mostly they make me laugh. I think, how odd, or who would be silly enough to believe that. But then again, I yell at characters on my TV screen and pretend that they can hear me and make changes accordingly. "No you fool, don't go into that room, the monster is in there. Run. RUN." They haven't listened to me yet, but I still keep on yelling. I guess they deserve to get eaten ;) Superstitions can truly be fascinating things. I'll bet you didn't even realize that. 

What are some of the superstitions in your life? I'll bet you have more than you think.

Day 13: Candy Corn, the Untold Story

In one form or another, I have been writing my October Thoughts since 2003. For sixteen years I have been writing about things that go bump in the night, holiday décor, strange obsessions and whatever else pops into my head. What started out as something for friends and family has branched out into the wide world and it is exciting and a bit scary. So really, it is perfect for October.

Over the years one thing has remained the same, and that is my original fan, my mom. Every year, she is my Thought writing supporter. She reminds me (like I could forget) that I need to sit down and write a Thought before bed. She pesters me about what the next Thought will be and why I pick and choose some and leave others out. She offers suggestions, gives critique and really wishes that I would stop writing about vampires. I love having her on my "staff." She keeps things interesting.

For a while now, due to ill health and Alzheimer’s, she hasn't remembered that I am writing the Thoughts, and when reminded, she is often too tired to read, but she smiles and tells me that she is sure they are good. Every year there is one theme she insists be written about. She doesn't care when it happens, just so long as it does. When my friend Kristen writes her Thoughts, mom insists that I remind her to write about them too. She is after all, an equal opportunity pester-bot. So since she can't remember to heckle me this year, I will do it for her.

Today then is all about candy corn. That wonderful little multicolored triangle that is perfect for making vampire teeth out of. Sorry mom, it had to be said. According to the National Confectioners Association, “candy companies will produce nearly 35 million pounds of the corny candy this year. That's about 9 billion individual kernels of corn. Or about 10 million dollars in dental bills.”

Most people know the traditional candy corn with three stripes -- yellow at the bottom, orange at the center and white at the top -- but it also comes in a variety of other colors and flavors depending on the holiday: Brown, orange, and white Indian corn (the brown section is chocolate-flavored) for Thanksgiving. Green, white and red Reindeer corn for Christmas (which I think should be mint flavored but so far they have not mass produced my idea yet). Pink, red and white Cupid corn for Valentine's Day (gag). And the dreaded Pastel-colored Bunny corn for Easter. Dreaded because even though color has nothing to do with it, and I know they make it fresh, Bunny corn looks ridiculous and tastes stale. And that is just the way it is.

But my mom isn't the only one who loves the triangular sweet stuff; October 30th is National Candy Corn Day. Though I don't think I have ever heard them announce that on the news.

According to research done by TLC staff reporter Stephanie Watson, "Candy corn has been around for more than a century. George Renninger of the Wunderlee Candy Company invented it in the 1880s. It was originally very popular among farmers and its look was revolutionary for the candy industry. The Goelitz Candy Company started making candy corn in 1900 and still makes it today, although the name has changed to the Jelly Belly Candy Company.

Although the recipe for candy corn hasn't changed much since the late 1800's, the way it's made has changed quite a bit. In the early days, workers mixed the main ingredients -- sugar, water and corn syrup -- in large kettles. Then they added fondant (a sweet, creamy icing made from sugar, corn syrup and water) and marshmallow for smoothness. Finally, they poured the entire mixture by hand into molds, one color at a time. Because the work was so tedious, candy corn was only available from March to November.

Today, machines do most of the work. Manufacturers use the "corn starch molding process" to create the signature design. A machine fills a tray of little kernel-shaped holes with cornstarch, which holds the candy corn in shape. Each hole fills partway with sweet white syrup colored with artificial food coloring. Next comes the orange syrup, and finally, the yellow syrup. Then the mold cools and the mixture sits for about 24 hours until it hardens. A machine empties the trays, and the kernels fall into chutes. Any excess cornstarch shakes loose in a big sifter. Then the candy corn gets a glaze to make it shine, and workers package it for shipment to stores."

I know it is time consuming, but I miss the good old days of handmade candy corn. Not that I ever tasted it, but don't you just imagine that it was better? But how weird is it that so much work went into making something so small. I think knowing that painstaking process is what cemented my love of candy corn in the first place. Candy is a complex thing and we just grab it off a supermarket shelf like it is no big deal. It really is something to savor. Think about it the next time you have some, hopefully this month.

Think about time, and creativity, about taste and texture. I know they say that the colors don't make a difference and that the corn tastes the same, but I swear, the orange part tastes a bit like a creamsicle, the yellow like honey and the white like a frothy marshmallow top. Just taste and see if I am wrong.

But now that you know the technical side of things, imagine with me if you will the fantastic. See, I don't think that candy corn is really made like that at all. I think candy corn comes from a parallel world that we can't see. In it, candy corns are living creatures who dwell in villages made out of gumdrops and romp and frolic like fairies. They fly to and fro on sugary wings, and eat only the choicest marshmallows from the mallow trees. As candy corns mature they get more colors. Baby corns start out as little white nubbins who then eventually grow into orange adults. From those adults, only the wisest and most magical of the candy corn people attain their yellow stripe.

But lest you think we barbaric human beings gorge ourselves on sweet candy people, let me tell you the rest of the story. When the wise candy corns have lived a full and happy life and are ready to journey onto the next adventure, they shed their triangular coats and become October sun and moon beams. Haven't you noticed the particular sparkle and shine on a beautiful day, or the twinkle of a star at night? Those are the candy people waving hello and giving October a little extra oomph.

With all those discarded candy coats lying around, something has to be done. That is where the scarecrows come in. Did you really think that they just stood around in fields all day looking at birds? Their job is to harvest the candy corn coats while the world is sleeping. And really, the birds work for them. They spend their days on the lookout for the candy coats and then report back. It is quite the system and I don't want to spoil all the secrets, but doesn't that just give you a whole new appreciation for the tiny, tasty triangle.

So the next time you are at the supermarket, buy a bag and support a scarecrow. Taste a tiny tricolored triangle for me. Have one for my mom (as long as it isn't chocolate) and be sure to have another on the 30th. I know I will.

Day 25: Rambling About Architecture

I think my fog dance is busted. Maybe I added a shimmy when it should have been a shake. Or perhaps my October operating system is on the blink. It seems to be a trade off this year. My monster cereals were easily accessible and they rereleased the old ones. But soy pumpkin nog is nowhere to be found. The corn maze is saved from drought and soldiers on, but there is no fog. I have had many, many pumpkin spice lattes, but not one caramel apple. Yup, it's official, my October mojo is on the fritz. I haven't read hardly any of my October magazines. The October books I have been dying to read were not all that great. I haven't watched most of my October movies and I totally missed the 10 day countdown. Now I have to squeeze a months worth of awesomeness into six days. I've said it before and I'll say it again, October just needs to annex the worthless month of November so the fun can last longer. Whew. Glad I got that out of my system. I think it is the threat of snow and the fact that people have Christmas stuff up already that is making me cranky. But enough about all that, let's get on to the important bits.

One of my favorite October things is old stuff. Of course being a history major and curious in nature that doesn't really surprise anyone, but October old stuff is the coolest. There are old, crumbly houses, ghost towns, dilapidated barns, castles, caves,  graveyards and creepy museums. I love the history of October. I love the fact that in small East coast burgs they celebrate that history and it makes me want to move there even more. I love all the old stuff, but in the interest of brevity I will only focus on one today, barns.

There is just something about barns. I love the color. I love the shape. I love it when they are shiny and new. I love them even more when they are only held up by dumb luck and duct tape. Old barns can speak volumes. They are places of work, play, rest, contemplation, imagination, life, death, warmth, shelter and community. Good barns always have a tractor in them, a hay loft, stalls for animals, a tool corner, pitchforks, thick rope, windows, big doors, and enough space to host a dance.
I think the passage of time is etched into the wood that makes up a barn. Barns have seen life go by, and been present for it in all its incarnations. I have a few pieces of art that are made out of barn wood and I can spend hours lost in contemplation about what life they have seen and been a part of. Did this owner have to get up and milk cows? Did a teenager sneak their first kiss in one? Maybe a rather adventurous soul jumped off the loft into a pile of hay. Maybe this barn was a shelter for members of the underground railroad or Jews fleeing from Nazi oppression. Perhaps this barn was part of a barn raising and not some prefab thing. There are all sorts of things to imagine.

My very favorite barns are the ones that defy gravity and logic and simply refuse to go gentle in to that good night. They lean and creak and look like one really good sneeze could send them toppling. But still they stand. They lean a little more, the wood loses more and more of its luster, but it gives me hope. It makes me want to live my life like that. Still standing no matter what life throws at it. Even burned barns leave a silhouette on the landscape. A patch where they once stood.
I know barns might not seem very October, but when you think of harvest and the sight of a barn against a backdrop of fall leaves, you might change your mind. Barns are full of possibilities and that to me is the perfect October qualification.